


aftermath

by jenhyung



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22878247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: Jaemin recovers.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Na Jaemin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 149





	aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> minhyung/jaemin spin-off from '[a huckleberry's game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21886249/chapters/52239064)'!

“Official Agent Na.”

Jaemin barely acknowledges the order from OFA Kim.

“Report to the Agency immediately.”

He’s flying down the concrete stairs, jumping from landing to landing, never mind the steps. His arms are already sore from having pulled the victims free of the explosives strung around them, tying them to one of the thicker pillars within the building.

In his haste, he misses the handrail, shoulder slamming into the adjacent wall as he continues to swing himself down the next three flights. There’s a loud crack and a sharp pain splintering through his bones, but Jaemin doesn’t care. Blood is running across his cheeks and his heart is on the verge of bursting in his chest, but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care about anything but Minhyung.

In less time than humanly possible, Jaemin is on the twenty-fifth floor again.

Ten minutes ago, he’d left Minhyung here.

Ten minutes ago, he’d made his choice.

Across the hollowed out floor, Minhyung sits bound to a wooden chair by eight-strand nylon ropes. Jaemin’s heart beats once more, immediately relieved at the sight of Minhyung still here.

Alive.

Though, he is no longer alone.

Hidden by a ski mask, the perpetrator stands tall. He has a gun in his hand, pointed at Minhyung’s temple, in a stance that undoubtedly means, _A step closer and he’s gone._

Jaemin inhales deeply. He ignores the look in Minhyung’s eyes, ignores the plea he sees in them. He ignores the way Minhyung’s cheeks are bruised, mouth taped shut, hair matted to his forehead with sweat. He ignores Minhyung, for he won’t be able to keep himself from breaking down if he thinks of Minhyung right now.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Agent Na.”

“Let him go.”

Jaemin’s voice is leveled, steady. It’s unlike the tremor in his chest, the urge to fall to his knees and cry. Minhyung is saying something, muffled by the tape, struggling in his seat. Jaemin wants to tell him to be quiet, to shut up, to say _Have you forgotten Hostage 101? Don’t speak, don’t make a sound._ But Minhyung can’t exist now, and he simply can’t because Jaemin refuses to believe that Minhyung’s life is on the line.

Minhyung doesn’t exist. He’s not in danger. He’s not about to flit out of Jaemin’s life.

He’s not.

“Let him go,” Jaemin says again. He advances, hands lifted in an obvious surrender, “Take me instead. I’ll take his place.”

Minhyung thrashes in the chair.

Jaemin ignores him.

The stranger readies his gun, “That’s not how this works.”

“It will be,” Jaemin says. He squares his shoulders, steadily closing the distance between them. He keeps his eyes trained on the stranger, assessing him–lean and tall, unlike any of the profiles from his recent Contracts. There doesn’t seem to be any ill will towards Jaemin, for if there were, Minhyung would’ve been tortured far worse than a simple beating.

The thought of it nearly has Jaemin’s façade cracking.

“Tell whoever your working for that I will take his place,” Jaemin says. Minhyung opposes this vehemently, shouts muffled by tape. The legs of the wooden chair scrap against the rubble on the ground. Jaemin doesn’t hear it, “Let him go.”

“You should’ve returned to the Agency.”

“No lives need to be lost today.” Jaemin plasters a grin on his face, feeling it eat at his heart, having to pretend as if he isn’t a second away from leaping for Minhyung, as if he isn’t a second away from breaking apart. He lowers his hands, which makes the perpetrator stand even taller, “Your trouble’s with me, take me instead. He has no place in this.”

Minhyung cries, tears rolling over the duct tape.

Jaemin keeps the smile on his face.

The perpetrator shakes his head, “That’s not how this works.”

“I’ll strike you a deal–”

“The deal has already taken place.”

The perpetrator kicks against the chair’s legs, shoving Minhyung an inch towards the edge of the building. The floor-to-ceiling windows have been removed, threatening to have Minhyung fall off and down twenty-five floors to meet the sidewalk.

Jaemin doesn’t flinch.

“The deal is done.” The stranger nods, “You saved the civilians. You made the right choice–Lee Minhyung for five innocent lives.”

Hearing his actions be retold to him, seeing the ramification of his decisions, Jaemin struggles to breathe. What was he _supposed_ to do? What else could he have done? To have Minhyung in a deal like this, to have decided the lives of five over the one he proclaims is the love of his life?

It’s hate that curls up his throat.

Jaemin passes a crumbling pillar, speaking slowly, “Let him go.”

“I have yet to fulfill my end of the deal.”

“You don’t have to–”

The perpetrator gives the chair another kick, and Minhyung is screaming. It breaks Jaemin, and he rushes forward, but the gun is pointed at him then. Jaemin doesn’t care that it’s aimed straight for his nose; his eyes are fixed on Minhyung’s. One out of the chair’s four legs hangs out in the open, and Minhyung is a breath away from falling to certain death.

“Stop,” Jaemin is begging now. He raises his hands again, willing to give anything to have Minhyung safe, “Take me instead, please–he won’t be of use to you. I’m an Agent, he isn’t. Take me, please.”

“Sorry.” The stranger blinks behind the mask, “But a deal’s a deal.”

“Wait!”

All at once, everything happens.

The scream is stuck in Jaemin’s throat.

And Jaemin finally caves. He looks at Minhyung, who’s shaking his head even as he falls off the edge of the building, blinking free a fresh set of tears. And it’s stupid–absolutely insane–that Jaemin knows the exact thought in Minhyung’s head– _it’s okay, Jaem. You did the right thing. It’s okay._

_I love you._

All the times those words were whispered to Jaemin, he remembers them all. The first time Minhyung’d stuttered it in the dark, thinking Jaemin to be sound asleep. The second time Minhyung’d admitted it over their morning breakfast, on accident when Jaemin’d made his favorite eggs and toast with a side of Canadian bacon. The third time Minhyung’d professed it, kissing Jaemin sweet and grinning from ear-to-ear, no longer bound by fear.

And every single time after that.

_I love you._

Minhyung’s black hair is hit by the wind immediately, and Jaemin watches his whole life fall to his imminent death. The perpetrator jumps too, hooked on by some line and is pulled upwards, disappearing before Minhyung is even out of sight.

Jaemin stops thinking.

His head clears, he hears nothing. Not even his heart thundering in his ears, not even the rattle of his ribs as he struggles to breathe. None of it register to Jaemin, nothing even feels _real_ anymore.

But Jaemin’s body moves.

All those hours slogged up in the Training Hall, going against the trainers, testing and training his body to a point he doesn’t need a command for it to know what to do. All those hours trapped in the ring with Donghyuck, those morning runs with Jeno, those evening circuit trainings with Jaehyun. He moves on pure instinct like it’s fight or flight–

and for Minhyung–he’s definitely not about to lose this fight.

He blinks.

The top of Minhyung’s head vanishes.

Jaemin snatches a loose power cable off the ground as he hits it running, looping it once around the nearest pillar. His feet are light, strides longer than they’ve ever been. He grabs tight onto the power cable and without a single thought in his head, he jumps off the edge of the building for Minhyung.

It’s only when he’s free-falling that he considers the possibility of them both hitting the sidewalk. But there’s no time to think because Minhyung is still falling and Jaemin can reach him if he just reaches out a little more–if the tips of his fingers could just _grab_ onto Minhyung’s ankle–

Jaemin feels the power cable in his left hand shake, and immediately he knows it’s the pillar giving way. With the added weight of the chair, Minhyung’s fall too fast–he’s not going to reach–he can’t–he has to–

Jaemin lets go.

He lets go of the cable and in that next second, he falls fast enough to wrap his fingers around Minhyung’s foot. Again, Jaemin’s limbs are fighting, his senses are heightened–like a light, he spots another floor with its windows absent. He swings Minhyung once in a fluid motion back into the building, narrowly missing the edge of the metal flooring. He lets himself be pulled by the momentum, crashing into Minhyung as they hurtle through a fair amount of debris, through more power cables and broken bricks–

to safety.

Jaemin breathes, for the first time.

His head is ringing, brain switching at the sudden influx of oxygen powering his body once more. The blood is rushing to his head and there are scratches and cuts from the glass that’d managed to pierce through his armor, but he doesn’t _care._

“ _Baby_ ,” he’s gasping, rolling onto all fours to crawl over to where Minhyung is, not five feet away. He helps Minhyung onto his back, now tangled in mere rope since the fall had broken the chair into splints. His hands are frantic, patting Minhyung’s cheeks, praying, “Baby, please–please, look at me, Min.”

Carefully, he peels the tape off Minhyung’s mouth. He sobs when Minhyung gasps for air, eyes fluttering open. Jaemin feels his entire body weaken, soul leaving his very frame when Minhyung coughs, then groans.

Jaemin rushes to help him free of the nylon, kicking them aside angrily as Minhyung struggles to sit up. He returns without missing a beat, clambering to be seated between Minhyung’s legs. There’s another loud crack that erupts from his shoulder when he throws his arms around Minhyung’s neck, but the pain is worth it when he feels Minhyung’s breath against his ear.

“It’s okay,” Minhyung whispers. His hands are on Jaemin’s back, palms over the holsters, trying to soothe his lover’s stuttering breaths, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“What–” Jaemin cries into Minhyung’s shoulder, not at all caring if OFA Kim could hear him, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Jaemin–”

He can’t get it out of his mind, the image of Minhyung being kicked off the twenty-fifth floor. And it was all _his_ fault. He chose to save the people, he chose to abandon Minhyung, he chose to have them both flying through the air at god knows how high.

“It’s not your fault,” Minhyung says, already hearing his thoughts boom across some psychedelic lover’s connection they had. He’s firm, like the grip he has around Jaemin’s waist, fingers digging painfully, giving Jaemin that much needed reminder that they’re _here_. They’re here and they’re together, “Jaemin, it’s not–”

“You could’ve–” Jaemin chokes, his tongue refusing to cooperate. “You _could’ve_ –”

He hugs Minhyung tighter, unapologetic over the fact that he might as well be cutting off Minhyung’s air supply. It’s nowhere near possible for Jaemin to let go, to even think of the ‘right’ thing to do. He can only take a breath at a time and let his senses register that the Minhyung under him is real and tangible; that the threat of greeting the sidewalk face first is no more.

“It was your Evaluation, Jaemin. This Contract–the Agency orchestrated it.”

The Evaluation.

Jaemin shakes his head. He hears the words, they mean nothing.

Nothing but Minhyung matters.

“I was never in any danger, baby, I promise.” Minhyung’s voice is low, soothing. He lets Jaemin cry tears and snot into his shoulder, crew neck stained through, “You did the right thing, you did.”

Jaemin laughs, broken and miserable, “I didn’t.”

“You _did_ ,” Minhyung presses his cheek to Jaemin’s crown, nuzzling him, “you did the right thing. You made the right choice.”

Jaemin says nothing. He knows his morals are being questioned, his loyalty to the Agency, his obedience to instruction. Without a doubt in his mind, he knows that saving the civilians was the right choice, he knows that listening to OFA Kim and leaving Minhyung–leaving the love of his life, the love he wakes up eagerly from sleep to meet–was the right thing to do.

It doesn’t make it any easier.

It doesn’t make Jaemin feel any better.

Any less guilty.

“I love you,” Minhyung says. He kisses Jaemin’s temple, “I love you, Jaemin.”

“Don’t,” he croaks.

How could Minhyung still _love_ him? There’s no way. It’s impossible; he can’t still want to be with Jaemin after what happened. Minhyung should leave him. He should leave Jaemin for someone better, someone who wouldn’t even hesitate for a second to save Minhyung’s life.

Jaemin sobs, the pain screaming across his shoulders barely comparable to the crack in his chest. He loses himself, forgets to breathe, gasping over and over until Minhyung is whispering _Breathe, baby, in_ – _out._ He listens, inhaling when Minhyung does, exhaling when he feels Minhyung’s chest bump against his.

There’s a clack of shoes.

Jaemin releases Minhyung instantly, hands flying to his PHK–

“There’ll be no need for that, Agent Na.”

When Jaemin realizes it’s SSA Seo and that Minhyung’s life is no longer once again on the line, he crumples again, curling his hands to his chest and burrowing into Minhyung’s. Minhyung accepts him with no words, tucking his face into Jaemin’s crown.

“Congratulations are in order for your succession to attaining the status of an Official Agent,” SSA Seo says, somewhere Jaemin can’t see. His head is bowed low, eyes busy leaving tear stains on Minhyung’s arm. “Although I expected to greet you outside, I sense some alternative arrangements are to be made here.”

Minhyung speaks first, “He needs a doctor. His shoulder–”

“We’re well-aware,” SSA Seo assures. _Of course,_ the Agency knows everything. They must’ve seen Jaemin break countless of bones without a single flinch, “Dr. Choi is on his way up with a team.”

Jaemin doesn’t know how long it takes, but Dr. Choi–the Agency’s resident doctor and trauma specialist–is by his side not much later. He tries to pry Jaemin off Minhyung, but Jaemin doesn’t budge, limbs locked in place. Minhyung’s heart is beating in his ear now, and he would rather risk an arm than have to leave Minhyung–he’d rather risk it all than have to never hear Minhyung’s heart beat again.

“Baby,” Minhyung whispers. It’s embarrassing, being so close with too many pairs of eyes on them, “Let him take a look–it’s okay.”

Jaemin shakes his head. The words don’t work anymore. He doesn’t want to speak, doesn’t want to risk making any sort of mistake that would place Minhyung in danger again. He clings tight, allowing only for Dr. Choi to work on his shoulder with Minhyung still holding onto him.

Through the haze of voices and the Extraction team coming by to clear the place up of any lingering evidence of their existence, Dr. Choi diagnoses Jaemin’s shoulder as minimally displaced, a fracture of some sort. Jaemin is instructed to a month off work, followed by another month off in-field assignments. Dr. Choi provides an arm sling and some painkillers for the night, with an added comment that his door is always open, should Jaemin need further assistance.

Minhyung kisses Jaemin’s temple, sighs,

“Let’s go home.”

–

Minhyung helps Jaemin into the bath.

He has the water running, making sure it isn’t too hot before helping Jaemin out of his blood-sweat stained clothes. Jaemin moves wherever Minhyung wants him to, standing under the warm rain of water and closing his eyes, feeling the heat work on the knots across his shoulders. With a washcloth, Minhyung scrubs gently at the grime and dirt and dried up blood along Jaemin’s arms and legs, avoiding the deeper cuts and darkening bruises.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Minhyung says, not for a second believing that Jaemin would.

He shampoos Jaemin’s pink hair, lathers it well with their peach-scented hair wash. For time’s sake, he skips the conditioner and is about to shut the water off when Jaemin grabs a hold of him,

“Aren’t you going to take a bath?”

Minhyung shakes his head, “I will. After you get in bed.”

“No.”

“What?”

The water rains down on Jaemin’s cheeks. He licks his lips, “I don’t want to be alone.”

And Minhyung understands. He undresses without a word and steps into the shower to join Jaemin. He works quickly even with Jaemin leaning against him, holding gingerly onto his arm, uncharacteristically quiet.

Any other day, Minhyung would’ve expected nothing less than to be kissed sweet.

Today, Jaemin does nothing.

By the time he’s hauling Jaemin into bed, Minhyung is out of breath. Jaemin might not look it, but his lean frame’s packed with enough muscles to take out five trainers at a go and Minhyung would rather never have to carry Jaemin as dead weight ever.

He grabs Jaemin’s medication and his bottle of water from his backpack by the foot of the bed, coming around the corner to coax Jaemin into having it.

“You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Jaemin says nothing. He takes the medication obediently, deadened eyes cast low. Minhyung sets them on their night table, then crawls under the covers to join Jaemin. Even with the winter raising a ruckus outside, Jaemin’s skin is still hot against Minhyung’s. He wraps himself gingerly around Jaemin’s larger frame, coaxing Jaemin’s cheek to his chest.

For a while, there’s nothing.

Minhyung is thankful for it, humming a soft tune and curling his fingers through Jaemin’s wet hair, trying to unknot the tangles. He runs his foot along the back of Jaemin’s leg, long and smooth strokes in an attempt to soothe the younger boy.

Then, he feels the first tear on his chest.

“Baby,” he whispers softly. He tries to inch away for a better look but Jaemin clings tight, nails digging into Minhyung’s side. Minhyung relents, “I love you.”

Jaemin croaks, “You shouldn’t.”

“But I do,” Minhyung says. Jaemin shifts, discomfort clear as day. Minhyung holds on tight, “I love you.”

And it’s quiet.

Jaemin must think Minhyung to have fallen asleep, because he whispers into the dark, the softest he’s ever been, “You shouldn’t.”

—

Minhyung isn’t blind to it.

He knows the look Jaemin gives him whenever he leaves unannounced for the bathroom, the way Jaemin’s fingers dig into the couch’s armrest in a valiant attempt to ground himself in Minhyung’s absence, the way Jaemin’s lip is bitten an angry red only to be released when Minhyung is back by his side.

He isn’t blind to it, and neither are the rest of their friends, but it’s not something Minhyung can fault him for.

The first week off-duty was easy. The painkillers prescribed by Dr. Choi helped keep Jaemin a little further away from the edge, loopy and drowsy during the most if the day. Minhyung was also granted a week break from work, being Jaemin’s only caretaker and the closest thing to family. He didn’t mind being away from work much, mostly enjoying their lazy afternoons with the TV turned on to whatever rerun of old sitcoms, Jaemin sleeping the time away peacefully in Minhyung’s embrace.

The nights were a little harder, especially when the nightmares started to kick in. Jaemin had never been difficult to share a bed with but Minhyung found himself waking at least once a night to Jaemin’s knee against his side or Jaemin’s elbow in his face. There was nothing he could do but hold Jaemin down in a bear hug, resisting the fitful dreams for him.

But the hardest were undoubtedly the days Jaemin were alone.

The Agency refused to let a recovering Agent on active grounds, no matter how earnestly Minhyung tried to make the case on Jaemin’s need to have him close by. SSA Seo maintained strict adherence to the Agency Handbook and Dr. Choi did not sign-off on releasing Jaemin from bedrest.

“Will you be okay?” Minhyung would ask in the morning, only to be met with a soft grunt from under the pile of their blankets and pillows. He would kiss the top of Jaemin’s head and promise to be home as soon as the work day was over. There would be no response, but an occasional text message or two would ping by Minhyung’s phone throughout the day.

It was all going considerably well–until Friday evening hit.

—

The apartment is shrouded in darkness. Minhyung’s first thought is to tighten his grip around his briefcase, ready to have it flung out before him lest he’s attacked. He may not be an in-field Agent but he still goes through training as rigorous as the next SA.

“Jaemin?”

He calls this out after ascertaining that the living room is clear of any signs of intrusion or imminent danger. He flicks the light on, drowning the apartment in light, and only then spotting the hunched figure on their small two-seater couch. Minhyung drops his keys into the bowl in the entryway.

“I’m home,” he says gently, toeing his shoes off and shuffling in. He drops his briefcase somewhere along the way, a sudden rise in his heart rate when Jaemin refuses to acknowledge him, “Baby–”

“Break up with me.”

Minhyung stops. He’s a foot away from Jaemin. It’s the loudest he’s heard his lover in weeks, the hoarse and scratchy itch to his voice worse than it’s ever been. He doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t take a breath. Somewhere deep in his head, he knows that it’s fear now in Jaemin’s heart.

Only fear and nothing else.

Jaemin shifts under the silence, “Please break up with me already.”

Minhyung lets himself breathe. His legs fold, sinking onto their marbled floors, cold against where his ankles are exposed. Jaemin’s tear-stained cheeks come into full view, the highs of his cheeks a bothered red, the puffs under his eyes thick.

There’s no need to ask _why_. Minhyung’s seen this coming from miles away now; the guilt had been eating Jaemin raw, there’s no way Minhyung would’ve missed it eating his love alive.

“I won’t,” Minhyung says easily. He rests a hand gingerly on Jaemin’s knee, hating the way it flinches under his touch, “I’m not breaking up with you.”

“Please,” Jaemin whispers. He shies away from Minhyung’s hand, but the grip is firm and it stays, “Please, please just break up with me.”

“I will not.” Minhyung’s heart chips at the corners when a tear rolls down Jaemin’s chin and off the edge of his jaw, “I will not break up with you, Jaemin. Not over this, not ever.”

Jaemin chokes on a sigh.

It makes Minhyung frown, “I know you’re upset and confused and overwhelmed with everything that’s happened, but Jaemin, you have to understand that it’s not going to–”

“ _No_.”

Jaemin is on his feet in the next second, but Minhyung isn’t one to lose in speed. He’s standing too, arms hanging loosely by his sides, resisting the prickle that wants him to just grab Jaemin into a hug that could dissolve the world around them.

“ _You_ have to understand,” Jaemin starts. His head is still bowed low, his broad shoulders scrunched together in a withering hunch, “I chose to let you die, Minhyung. I chose–I chose _not_ to save your life, and I don’t get how you’re not taking this seriously–”

“Jaemin–”

“–but you have to break up with me. Just leave, okay? I treated your life like it meant nothing, I left you while you strapped helpless to a chair, I _clearly_ have zero regard for your mortality, please just–”

Minhyung’s jaw clenches; he reaches up to grab Jaemin by the shoulders, fingers digging tightly into them. He squeezes and shakes until Jaemin finally caves to look up–the sight nearly breaking Minhyung all over once more.

It’s an understatement to say that Jaemin looks like he’d been crying for hours before Minhyung’d gotten home. It looked more like he’d been crying the moment Minhyung stepped out the door this morning. The tear tracks on his cheeks are dry, and it’s almost as if he’s wrung himself completely free of tears and is just physically incapable of shedding another tear.

“Listen to me now and listen to me good,” Minhyung says lowly. He hardly ever got into fights with Jaemin, and they never resolved into shouting matches, but there were a handful of times he had to command a stern façade to get his point through the stormy clouds of Jaemin’s thoughts, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You made the right choice saving the lives of those five others–I don’t care if it was an Evaluation or not, you made the right choice. I’m happy you did, I’m proud that you did.”

Jaemin lips break apart, “You don’t understand–”

“I don’t.” Minhyung steps a little closer, pushes the bubble Jaemin’d formed around himself to keep people out, “I don’t understand what you’re going through and I can’t even begin to fathom the thoughts in your head for having gone through this Evaluation, but Jaemin, I’m _telling_ you with a sound mind that you did nothing wrong.”

Jaemin closes his mouth, still doubtful.

“It’s not something we have to think about anymore.” Minhyung represses the pressure behind his eyes, refusing to cry. He knows Jaemin’d break again if he did, “I’m here. It was a test, you passed it. Nothing else matters because I still love you, as much as I did before and I know you love me too.” He grapples for the right words, feeling Jaemin’s walls crumble, “When you came back for me, I–I saw the look on your face, Jaemin. I know it wasn’t an easy decision you had to make, and I know that I would’ve gone peacefully even if it wasn’t a test. I would’ve loved you still–I love you now.”

Somewhere outside, a thunder rolls by.

“I won’t ask you to stop thinking about it, but please,” Minhyung cups Jaemin’s cheeks, searching Jaemin’s eyes in hopes of finding a glimmer of hope in them. He breathes, “Don’t forget that I love you.”

“You love me,” Jaemin mumbles, repeating it as if it were his first time speaking. He averts his eyes, “You love me.”

“I do,” Minhyung says, now on the verge of pleading. He’d say it a thousand times, say it until it bled deep into Jaemin’s heart, “I love you. I love you very much.”

“Are you–”

“Yes, I am.”

Minhyung forgets all about counseling training, throwing his arms around Jaemin’s neck for a tight hug. It’s inadvisable to be moving around Jaemin so quickly when he’s skittish like this, but Minhyung knows he’s done the right thing when Jaemin’s arms are around his waist, hugging tight.

Jaemin tucks his face into Minhyung’s neck, breath shallow, “What have I done to deserve you?”

“I’d ask you the same thing,” Minhyung whispers. He turns his head to kiss Jaemin’s crown, “Whatever this is, promise me we’ll work it out together?”

“Min–”

“Promise me,” Minhyung says, squeezing Jaemin once.

As much as Jaemin was afraid of losing him, Minhyung felt the same way. There are no words that could possibly explain the way his heart jumped out of his chest when he was pushed back to freefall twenty-five stories. There was no way he could explain the fear he felt when he saw Jaemin rush after him as if they were tied by their hearts, to see Jaemin jump out of the building after him.

As much as Jaemin is afraid, Minhyung is too.

“I promise,” Jaemin whispers. He curves into Minhyung’s touch, “I–need time, but I promise.”

“As much time as you want,” Minhyung nods. He closes his eyes, refusing to think any longer,

“I’ll be here–every step of the way, as long as you’ll let me.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> ryan
> 
> x


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